


In The Slammer

by old_soul_lullaby



Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Choking, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, Homophobic Language, M/M, Non-Con Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 19:32:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4031944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/old_soul_lullaby/pseuds/old_soul_lullaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Freddy has something he's always wanted to try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Slammer

It took two officers to drag the drunk into the station. He dragged his feet across the floor and was singing obnoxiously, _I was drunk last night, dear mother, I was drunk the night before_ …

“You understand why we brought you in, don’t you?” said the older cop, a griseled man in his forties. “You were piss drunk in the park, loudly disturbing the peace, practically falling down with a bottle in your hand.” 

“A likely story, officer,” the drunk said, glaring at the man. “You ‘spect me to believe that?” 

The cop rolled his eyes. “Okay, buddy. Well, I think you might believe it in the morning.” 

“Aww, gentlemen, you shouldn’t ha’ gone ta all that trouble,” the man slurred, dragging a hand sloppily down the younger cop’s face. “Ya got me my own room an’ everything.” 

“We got you a room, alright,” the second cop sneered, pushing the drunkard away and into an empty cell. He closed the sliding door with a metallic clang and wiped his hands on his slacks. “No room service, I’m afraid.” 

“No room service?” the drunk whined. “And here I thought I was at the Hilton.” 

“Jim, I think I can take it from here,” the young cop said to his partner. “Why don’t you go home, have dinner with your wife? I just got some paperwork to take care of and then I’ll head home too.” 

“Sure thing, Freddy, thanks,” the cop said, exiting. 

Freddy walked him to the door and then stood there a moment, waiting, listening to the sound of the other man’s footsteps receding. Finally, he took a deep breath and turned back to his prisoner, a small smile on his face. 

The drunk was already on his feet, smirking. 

“You’re shameless, baby,” he said, voice pitched so low Freddy had to move closer to make out his words. “Having me break the goddamn law just so you could get your rocks off. You know what was in that bottle?” He reached between the bars and grabbed Freddy by the collar, tugging him so their faces were inches apart. 

“What?” Freddy asked, visibly trembling. 

The prisoner breathed over his lips, “Apple juice.” He laughed. “You’re shakin’ like a leaf, kid. Come in here.” 

Freddy smacked his hand away and stepped back. “I think you should sleep it off, buddy.” 

A confused expression passed over the prisoner’s face, and then he understood. “You want me to make you, huh?” 

Freddy didn’t respond. He’d crossed the room and sat behind his desk, back ram-rod straight, shuffling papers with shaky hands. He carefully did not look at the man in the cell. The man chuckled to himself. That morning they’d been in bed and Freddy had rolled over to face him, wide green eyes gazing up at him, so sweet. He’d pushed his hard cock into his thigh and buried his face into the crook of his neck. 

“Larry,” he’d whispered. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Anything, kiddo.” The boy had him wrapped around his finger and he knew it. 

“I …” Larry had thought he would ask him to bottom for him, had had the word yes resting right behind his tongue. “I want you to fuck me in the jailhouse. I … I wanna be your bitch.” 

Larry had been silent for a moment, staring at the kid who wouldn’t meet his eye. There were no secrets between them: Freddy was a police officer and he was a thief. It was just the way it was. If you’d asked him a year ago how he felt about cops, Larry would have told you he despised them, unconditionally. Then he’d met Freddy. They’d hit it off, immediately becoming friends. Soon they'd become inseparable. When they’d started fucking, Larry had had to ask himself what the fuck he thought he was doing with this _cop_ , of all people, who was at least twenty years his junior. So he’d come clean with Freddy, thinking he’d be cut off from the young man he'd fallen in love with and thrown into jail to boot. But Freddy had only laughed. “Well that’s ironic,” he’d said, and that was the last they’d talked about it, despite the both of them now being aware that when they parted ways in the morning, one was going to uphold the law and the other was going to break it. 

But now that Freddy was loosely referring to his career as a criminal, and couldn’t look him in the face … 

“Are you scared of me, Freddy?” he’d asked, simultaneously tender and grave. He cradled the boy’s face in his hands, tilting it up so they were eye-to-eye. “Talk to me.” 

“I’m not scared of you,” Freddy said, surprised. He sniffled a little and scooted up in the bed so he could lean his forehead on Larry’s. “In fact, man, I trust you more than anybody else. That’s what scares me. Not just because you’re a criminal, but because I work everyday with cops and you’re still the one I trust with my life.” He took Larry’s hand and kissed it, held it up to his cheek. “I think I’m in love with you,” he whispered. 

“Oh, son, come here.” Larry pulled him close, murmured into his ear, “I love you too, my sweet boy. I loved you from the moment I saw you. I knew who you were, what you were, but I didn’t care, I wanted to give everything to you.” 

Freddy was still slowly humping him, and now his hips picked up speed, his breath hitching. “What’d you want to give me?” he panted. 

Larry ripped off the blanket and tossed it into the corner, picked Freddy up beneath the armpits and laid him on his chest. Their bare bodies fit perfectly against each other’s. 

“My life,” Larry said simply. 

“I’m so empty, Larry,” Freddy whined, rocking down against Larry’s cock. “Please, please.” 

“Please what, babe?” He traced a finger down the curve of the boy’s ass. “Want something in here?” 

“Mmm, _yes_ ,” Freddy moaned piteously. “Please gimme your cock, Daddy.” 

Larry groaned. The kid knew damn well he was helpless when he started calling him that. “Okay, boy. Gotta get you ready first. Don’t wanna hurt you.” 

“I woke up before you,” Freddy said. He shifted and slipped three fingers inside himself no problem, eyelids falling to half-mast. “I want you _now_.” 

“Jesus.” Larry lifted Freddy by the hips. “You set the pace.” 

“O-Okay.” Freddy, gripping Larry’s shoulders for balance, slowly eased himself onto Larry’s cock. His eyes squeezed shut when the head first breached his hole. “God, so big,” he babbled. “So fuckin’ big … You’re gonna tear me apart. Rip me in two, oh, fuck.” His eyes flew open when he was sitting fully in Larry’s lap, full to the hilt. “Oh fuck oh Jesus oh my God.” 

Larry was even less coherent. He tried sitting up enough to see Freddy’s face, then to see where he was stretching him open, but he kept falling back onto the pillow, overwhelmed. Freddy’s fingers tightened their hold, bruising his skin. Larry realized he was chanting, “S'good, so good, baby, so good for me.” 

Freddy bounced on his cock, head thrown back. Larry reached up to Freddy's chest and twisted his nipples, both gratified and turned on even further at how Freddy arched his back and slammed himself down faster, making the most beautiful noises above him. 

“Larry,” he choked out, “Larry, meet me at the station later, okay? F-Fuck! It’s just me and one other guy on duty tonight–hngh!–I’ll get rid of him somehow. It’ll just be you and me.” 

“You really want this, huh, kid?" Larry groaned as Freddy picked up the pace, coming apart over him. "You want me to treat you like my prison bitch, is that it? Pin you against the wall so you can't get away, then pound you so good and hard, fuck you like you never been fucked, so you're begging for my cock, crying for it? Rutting against me like a bitch in heat? Is that what you want?" 

"Oh my God, _L-Larry_ . . ." Freddy came just like that, eyes locked with his, mouth wide open. Larry held up two fingers and Freddy took them into his mouth, suckling greedily, whining around them. Larry came seconds later, pulsing hot into his boy's ass. 

They lay together as they came down, Larry lazily running a hand through Freddy's wild hair, Freddy laughing into his neck. Finally he pulled off, sighing at the empty feeling he was left with. He gave Larry a peck between the eyes. 

"I'll see you when I get home," he said as he tugged on his uniform. He turned in the doorway, winked, and was gone. Larry had lay back in their bed for a little while longer, smiling to himself. He thought about it: they lived in a small town where crime very rarely occurred and few police officers were employed. And it was a weeknight, and Freddy was going to be one of the only two officers on duty . . . Going out the door, Freddy had sounded as though what he'd been talking about in bed had just been a fantasy and he wasn't expecting Larry to act on it. But Larry figured he could make it work. And if it had only been Freddy talking out of his dick, they didn't have to go through with it. 

He was between jobs and was working part time at an auto shop the next town over, the owner of which his boss Joe had connections to, so he'd called in sick, ran to the grocery store, and taken a little walk to the park. He knew Freddy's beat and it wasn't hard to find him and his partner and make it look like they'd stumbled upon him. The look of pleasant surprise and excitement on Freddy's face had been worth every second of his partner's rough treatment of him on the way to the station. 

Now here he was, in a rusty jail cell, gazing at the cop who'd put him there and wondering how he could have gotten so lucky. 

He noticed Freddy had, surely conscientiously, left his ring of keys hanging up on the wall where he, Larry, could easily reach through the bars and grab them. In the spirit of the game, he reached out as slowly and quietly as he could manage, feeling his heartbeat quicken in anticipation despite knowing they were both in control of the situation. As slowly as he could stand, he turned the key in the lock, feeling ghosts of deja vu sweep over him as he recalled days he'd snuck out of hick town jails like this when he was much younger than Freddy. He pushed open the door and tiptoed out, hugging the wall, circling the room until he was behind Freddy, who didn't look up from his papers. His hands were no longer shaking. He actually seemed engrossed in what he was doing, and for a moment, Larry hesitated. Then he noticed Freddy's foot tapping beneath the desk, and his fingers drumming the chair arm. 

Freddy started to hum Let's Get It On. 

Larry grinned as he glided forward and loomed over him. 

"I recognize a faggot when I see one, _Officer_ ," he said softly, biting out the last word as though it tasted bad. "And I see one in you. You ain't taken your eyes off me since you caught me out at Tartelini Park. Now," he said, placing both hands on either chair arm and leaning forward so Freddy's back was braced against his chest, "You didn't check me for a gun before you brought me in. A rookie mistake. A fucking stupid mistake." In fact, he'd left his gun at home. Less incriminating. He didn't need his record checked and to spend the next twenty years in jail for a faked drunk-in-public incident. Freddy's partner had patted him down before he'd put the cuffs on him, but mentioning that didn't fit the game. Larry pressed his fist against Freddy's cheek in lieu of his pistol. "Tell you what, Officer. You get down on your knees and suck me, maybe I won't blow your fuckin' brains out." 

Freddy choked, scrambling onto the floor, whole time sputtering, "No, no, please, you don't have to do this, man, I swear, I'll let you go, I-I . . ." Larry could see the kid's cock straining against those uniform pants that hugged his ass so well. Larry pulled him up by the hair just so he could grab it. 

"Perky little ass," he gritted out. "Can't wait to ruin it." 

"No, please! Don't do this." Freddy, now on his knees, was trying to hump the floor, sobbing in frustration. For a second, he broke character. "Larry, I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I got the patience." He screwed up his face and lightly brought his fist down on Larry's knee, so reminiscent of a child who can't get his way that Larry couldn't supress a laugh. "I'm so goddamn _horny_!" 

"If you can wait a few more goddamn seconds, slut," Larry said conversationally. He unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock out with a contented sigh. "Now, how's about this to fill that blabbermouth? C'mere." When Freddy didn't move, Larry roughly grabbed him by the back of the neck and yanked him forward, tugging harder when Freddy clenched his mouth shut and twisted his face away. "Suck me, bitch. You want me to slap you?" Freddy's eyes lit up. Larry caught himself from smiling just in time. This kid was going to be the death of him. As hard as he could stand, he hit him across the face. The red mark that surfaced on his cheek was surprisingly a turn-on. "Now go on and suck me before I change my mind about blowing your brains out." 

"I'll blow your brains out," Freddy snarled, and latched onto his cock with his mouth. 

Larry groaned out loud, pushing Freddy's head down until he was choking, lips brushing his balls. Freddy looked up at him with tear-soaked eyes and, a reflex, Larry reached down to brush the tears away. He knew their safeword, and knew that Freddy knew, and knew the gesture they used when words were impossible, so he wasn't worried about harming the kid. But he still hated to see him cry, regardless of the circumstances. 

Freddy pulled off abruptly, using his hand to make up for the loss of his mouth. "Softy," he said, voice wrecked, lips swollen, eyes still streaming tears. He spat on Larry's cock and went back to work, using his hand for what he couldn't immediately take with his mouth. Suddenly, his eyes went wide and he grabbed himself with his free hand. 

"No touching," Larry barked, then realized. "Oh. _Oh_. Okay." He stood up, nudged Freddy to get out of the way with his boot, and then shoved everything off the desk with an elbow. "Bend over, bitch, before you come in your nice little _dress pants_ like the whore you are." 

"Listen, really, man, you don't have to do this. Please, I'll do anything--" 

"You'll do anything, huh? Bend over, I said." Without warning, he undid Freddy's belt one-handed and then yanked down his pants. "Bend the fuck over!" 

"Oh, please," Freddy sobbed, obeying and leaning over the desk, holding himself up with his hands clutching the edge of the wooden desk. " _Please_!" 

Larry hit his bare ass with the flat of his hand. "You beg like a bitch, you're gonna get fucked like a bitch." He grabbed the cop's hips and pulled him back so his ass was flush with his cock. "Feel that? That's what you're about to take. And you're gonna like it." 

As he'd expected, Freddy was still stretched out from that morning, and his cock went in easily. He draped himself over the younger man's body as he slowly rocked into him. 

"Fast and hard or slow and easy?" he asked despite knowing the answer. 

"What do you think?" Freddy grunted, thrusting his hips back. 

Larry chuckled. "I knew you'd be into it, you little slut." He covered the boy's hands, white-knuckled on the desk, with his own as he sped up his thrusts. Freddy was letting out his breath in little gasps that were fucked out of him, breathy little "oh oh ohs." 

"What if someone walked in right now?" Larry muttered. "Saw you bent over your own desk getting fucked by the drunk guy you arrested? Bet they all want you, hot piece of ass like you. Bet they jack it in bed every night thinking about you like this. Bet they'd stand around and watch. Stand in line, waiting their turn to have a go. I bet they'd stand real close so they could jerk themselves and come all over your pretty little face. You'd like it, too, wouldn't you? Getting all that attention, having all those guys looking at you. Once I was through with you I'd sit back and watch them all have their way with you. Then when they were done maybe I'd kill them and take you away with me so you could be mine, just mine." 

"I don't know how the fuck you got the breath to say all that," Freddy panted, clawing at the desk for purchase, "Old man." 

Larry slapped his ass again. "I stay in shape, _bitch_. Now hold still and take it." 

"Thought you wanted me to, _unngh_ , beg for it?" He pushed his ass back and moaned, clearly exaggerated. He glanced back when Larry groaned, rutted a hand beneath the kid's shirt and ran it down his sweaty back. "You like that?" 

"Gonna shut you up now," Larry growled, and wrapped his hand tightly around Freddy's throat, digging his fingers in hard enough to cut off his air. Freddy sputtered and put his forehead down on the desk, pushing back urgently against Larry as he came in long spurts all over the desk. 

Larry relaxed his grip, kissing between Freddy's shoulder blades. He pulled out just in time to come on the boy's shirt. The light blue material was stained dark. Larry smiled. 

"That what you had in mind, kiddo?" he said, sitting beside Freddy on the desk, gently massaging the back of his neck where he'd grabbed him. 

Freddy blew an errant strand of hair out of his eyes. "You fuck pretty good for an old dude," he said. He looked up at Larry and smiled. It was quiet between them for a long time. Finally, he looked away and said, "I love you. Does that sound cheesy or what? But I like saying it 'cause it's true. I love you, Larry." 

"I love you, Freddy. Did I hurt you?" 

"No, 'course not. In fact, that slap was kinda weak. Work on it in the future, you get what I'm puttin' down? Maybe get some Viagra if that's what you gotta do." 

"Sure, whatever you say, squirt. Say, if you ever manage to collect yourself and pull your pants up, maybe on the way home I'll stop somewhere and get you an ice cream cone." 

"Shut the fuck up," Freddy laughed, pushing himself up and running to the water cooler in the corner, dampening the edge of his ruined shirt and cleaning the surface of his desk off with it. "Maybe after I eat the ice cream I'll drop you off at the nursing home. All those old ladies'd lose their minds." 

"And then you'd get jealous and take me home so you could have me all to yourself," Larry said, backing Freddy into the desk and wrapping his arms around him. He rested his chin on his shoulder and spun him around. "Wish we had some music. I'm in a dancin' mood." 

"Because you just fucked me where I work?" Freddy reluctantly pulled himself away and wrote up the report, drunk man arrested, spends night in jail, does his time, blah blah, goes home, no harm done. He sat back in his chair and yawned. "Thank you, Larry." 

"Hey, don't thank me," Larry said, reaching out to ruffle his hair. "I had fun too." 

"So . . . This weekend there's gonna be this really awful sci-fi flick playing at the movies. I doubt anybody's gonna go to it, so . . . I was thinking, you and me . . ." 

Larry groaned. "You're insatiable, kid. Let's go home. I need some rest. Unlike you, I'm _old_ and need to recover." 

Freddy grinned, flipping off lights and locking the door behind them as they walked out into the night together. Looking around to make sure no one was looking, he slipped his hand into Larry's and kissed him long and slow. He smiled against his lover's lips. "So. Ice cream?"

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a good teenager and know nothing about jail aside from what I've seen on TV please don't sue me


End file.
